New Britain Herald Newspaper, August 4, 1927, Page 12

Love’s Embers Adele Garrison’s Absorbing Sequel to “Revelations of a Wife” Beginning a New Serial——————/ Red Beard and a Dog Made a Dramatic Entry For an instant I was so bewild- ered by anor Lincoln’s sudden sagging against me, and to have Noel Veritzen take her place at the wheel of her r, that there was no thought in my mind save the urge to for the illnest which she said had seized her. But even as Noel and Mary came cleser to us v 1 little exclamations stonished sympath: I realized that her claim of illness was pretense. frightene someth someone sh had d that because of the orrified widening of Jier ad noticed. Follc g th eyes 1 nd- station lc our ob) She was —my iition rapid footst weakness that » station hardly 1 an exhibition n him before, there was no element of suprise in the meeting and she could not h her presence at the stat- ion from him of her body, ev tone of her : »d voice spelled her desire not to be As we res puiled open seen hed her car, and Noel sar door, she arm. the other side of | ht myeelf had d, and T cau But when upon entering the twisted her hody to a pos- at sheltered her between us and gave little chance for anyone seeing her from outside, T acquit her of any pretense. There patently were but two thi 1 her mind, one to escape observation, the other to get away from the station as | fast as possible. her plea | Yet every movement | ! But we were not to get away 8o casily. Noel bent to the key, turned jit and put his foot upon the starter. Not a sound came from it, and he turned around with as apologetic an air as it he were to blame for the battery's failure to respond. | “It may be the battery has run |down,” he said, “but I think the urter is jammed. I'll get down Miss Lincoln breath- ng her head from , and while Noel climb- ywn under the car I seized the ad had for other | 1 cursory at the people at the ion. s first sought the red-| I expected to find | r our car intently, be-! previous inexplicable | s face was turned ion and I saw that - upon which his eyes were a new one belonging to | of the local automobile dealers | who evidently was either negotiat- ing or just completing a sale to the young man whose dog 8o | knocked me down in station two days | “Oh, hurry” first opportuni than striking nearly had the Long Island before, The dog was still with him, sitting now beside,im in the seat. But that the animal was excited and anxious to get out of the car was plain to | inyone. His head was lifted, his | nostrils aquiver, his eyes gleaming, while from his throat issued faint whimperings which T knew but for his training would have been clam- orous barl His master's hand was firm upon his collar, but his master's eyes were | tixed upon our car. T did not have | me for anything sav flashing conjecture s to a possible connec- tion between his interest and Elea- nor Lincom's desire for concealment before the dog with a sudden move- ment broke away from his master, cleared with two or three powerful bounds the distance between his | master's car and ours, and leaping into the tonneau of our open car, | threw himself upon us, Copyright, 1927, Newspaper Feature Service, Inc. avors show nd Tor two or three Blue- bird family ained right around Farmer Brown's dooryard. In the first place, the young birds were not strong enough to fly far. Then, too, Winsome and Mrs, Winsome just what good friends T Brown's Boy, Farmer Brown and Mother Brown were. They felt that the young Bluebirds were safer than they would be farther . And of course Winsome and Mrs. Winsome were unusually ‘wor- ried becanse of the fact that three of their children were dressed all in white. They just couldn't get used to it. They didn’t mean to be par- tial, but the fact is the other two babies got more of the food than the white ones did. This was because it seemed more fly to the habies that were s young Bluebirds should be dressed. Now there was one thing that Farmer Brown's Boy is always very particular about. that there shall at ail times be wat re the hirds can drink it and bathe in it He never forgets to put out w sometimes as if all th Old Orchard birds of the tting arcund a morn the oth sometir water. No, brother! T} dish was blue knew | rmer | In a moment he was ducking and attering and having a wonderful time. !a diffcrent blue from any bird he had ever seen. Yes, sir, that bird was blue! He was a stranger. “Hi there!” he called. “What are you doing in that water?” | “Just taking my turn” replied | the young bird, splashing around in the water. “Come on in. The water's young Bluebird on the sline blinked again. That cer- | was his brother's voice, What it all mean? He felt that some- g must be wrong with himself. lled to his sister, who was also waiting her turn. he came flyi over to the clothesline and sat be replied. by T. W. Burgess) ited READ THID HERALD CLASS FOR BEST RESULTS TREE-TOP STORIES A MISTAKE OSEMARY was pulling weeds out of her flower- zarden. Two big brown Butter- watched her. [ zuesa they are looking at me with their big, shiny eyes,” Rose- mary said. “Perhaps they won- der what I am.” Suddenly ore of them lit on the embroidered daisy on her sleeve. “It thinks it's a real flower!” she whispered. She scarcely breathcd until the dainty creature flew away. “How disappointed it be!" said Rosemary. must | But the only man in | with her, but Sally is afraid | And do NEW BRITAIN DAILY HERALD, THURSDAY, AUGUST 4, 1927. *HER MAN* by BLATRICE BURTON, Aul) READ THIS FIRST: Sally Jerome, pretty and clever, is the prop and mainstay of her fam- ily in the absence of her father, who has not lived with her mother for nine years. The family consists of Mrs. Jerome, the twins, Beau and Millie, and Sally herself. Mrs. Jerome enjoys poor health so Sally does the housework mornings and office work for Mr. Peevey down- town afternoons. In the flat below the Jeromes’ flat lives young Ted Sloan, an auto- { mobile salesman, who wants her to marry him and keep on working. whom she {8 interested is John Nye, whose real estate office is just across the hall from Mr. Peevey's. Nye hires Mil- lie as his secretary and becomes blindly infatuated with her. Sally is heartsick and unreasonably jeal- ous. Bean and Millie spend most of their earnings on themselves, bor- | row money from Mrs. Jerome when- ever she hus a check from her ab- sent husband, and still never have enough for their desires. Sally prac- tically maintains the home, with oc- castonal help from her mother or | Beau, or a loan from her Aunt Em- ily Jerome, who is giviog up school teaching to turn her old home into a wayside inn, serving chicken din- ners. ‘She wants Sally to come in might not make much money, and she is sure of the $21 a week she gets from Mr. Peevey, little though it 1s. Beau manages to get $110 from Ted Sloan by means of two bad checks, and Ted threatens to turn him over to the police. Sally bor- rows the money to Pay Ted from Mr. Peevey. But instead of paying Ted, Beau uses the money to elope with his flancee, Mabel Wilmot. Beau and Mabel start borrowing from Sally the first week of their married life, although they have not set up housekeeping, but are hoarding and both of them are working. Aunt Emily gives a Sunday plenic for them, and all of the family ex- cept Sally drive home from it in John Nye's car, when he calls for Millie. She refuses to, and starts home alone much later. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXVIT John Nye's big brown automobile was standing before the apartment house when Sally turned into the street that warm October night. Its bright headlights silvered the pavement in front of it and dimmed the stars in the sky above it. As Sally came abreast of it, it gave a long loud siren-call and Millle's gay voice called out to her: “HI, you, Sally! Where you been s0 long? We've been waiting for you almost an hour.” “Waiting?"” echoed Sally, crossing the sidewalk and coming to a stand- | brown car. “Why still beside the were you waiting for me Tn the darkness above light she cculd make out Millie's small white face and beyond it John Nye's dark one. It wos he who answered her. “I'm making an 11 o'clock train tonight, Miss Jerome,” he said. “And Millie's going to drive me down to the station and keep the car until T come back to town. I thought per- haps you'd drive down with us and then she wouldn't have to come back alone.” ‘ “Oh, yes—" Sally nodded her head in the darkness. “All right. Tl run upstairs first and see if Mother has cverything she needs.” “I did that, dear,” said Millie, at her very sweetest. “She’ll be all right until we get back.” She leaned back in her seat and opened the rear door of the car. But Sally hesitated. PRTIIITY might not be telling the truth about her mother. Millie was more capa- ble of warping the truth when it pleased her to do it. “Did you give her her hot milk?’ she asked uncertainly. “And find her glasses for her, and help her into her clothes for the night “Oh, for heaven's sake, yes!” Millie snapped impatiently. “Do you suppose I'd say T had it T hadn't? ou think I'd leave Mother :f T didn’t positively know she was comfortable? You know I wouldn’ But Sally knew that she would if she felt like it. She racked her brains, but she couldn't remember a single time when Millle tad done anything to- wards making Mrs. Jerome comfort- |able and contented But, without half trying she could recall any number of times when Millie had scolded her mother for demanding so much waiting upon. “She may be sick,” she had often said crossly to Sally, “but she’s not she | the dash- | so sick that she couldn’t keep my clothes mended up if she wanted to! She can read all day and half the night, and that doesn’t seem to in- jure her health!"” But Millle was singing an alto- gether differcnt tune now. “We've just spoiled Mother,” she was say- ing to John Nye. “There's not a rea- son in the world why she shouldn’t stay alone in the flat sometimes in the evening—but she hates to, and that's what Sally’s thinking of now. Come on, hop in, Bally; we won't be gone very long! And Mother's all right. T just saw her.” Sally hopped in, and the brown car started. . After all, Mrs. Jerome never was downright Il un- less she had over-eaten. And be- sides, as John Nye had pointed out, | Millie ought not to drive home alone at midnight. The night was sweet and damp | and soft. The stars sebmed to come | right down to the housetops, and a warm wind was blowing. And Sally, leaning back, luxuri- ously against the deep cushions, for- got her troubles and gave herself | up to the soothing motion of the | car and the beauty of the breath- ing night. She closed her eyes and dozed a little as they rolled along. The sudden stopping of the car | awakened her. It was standing in | a wide driveway beside a tall, nar- row house. There were thorn-apple trees along the drive, and beyond | the thick foliage she could see shut- tered windows with light shining through the chinks, and a white doorway that was halfway opened, letting a shaft of orange-colored ra- dlance out into the darkness. John Nye's house. Pretty spitfy-looking house, isn't jked Mlllie, softly, when tall form had vanished through the doorway.” Certainly looks Iike money to little Millie.” Sally put her head to one side. “It's a lovely house,” she said. “It looks as if nice, solid, decent people |lived in it. I like their shutters and | thorn-apple trees, don’t you?" “I like thelr money.” Millie’s little voice had lost all of its velvety qual- ity and was as hard sounding as brass. Then John Nye came running out of the house with a big-kitbag in his hand and they were on their way once more. Millie drove, this time, with her little hands under his on the steering wheel, and her body | | close against his as she leaned to- | wards him. Her voice came floating back to Sally every now and then. “Don't know how I'm going to| get along without you, Johnny,” she | said once, and then, “I do hope you'll find your mother better this time. Isn't it dreadful to know that your mother is {l1? It's the most | dreadful thing in the world.” Sally couldn't help remembering the afternoon, not so long before, when Millie had rushed out of the flat, leaving Mrs., Jerome groaning | and writhing with her attack of in- digestion behind her. T do hope Mother's all she thought anxiously. “I wish T hadn't taken Millie’s word for it.” “Let’s hurry a bit,” she said when John e's train had pulled out, and she and Millie were back in the brown car. Then it came to her that Millie had just learned to drive, and that it would not he safe for her to drive fast. “No, maybe you'd better not hurry,” she vent on as they started off. “Ted says a new driver ought to go slowly—keep the car under control.” “New driver? What do you mean, rew driver? asked Millie, with a | disdainful 1ift of her chin. “I've | known how to drive a car for two gave her a quick. puzzled Vhy—But John Nye was just helping you on the day down,” she said, and Millie gave a shout of scornful laughter. “He thinks he taught me to drive,” said she. “He had a swell time, showing me how to shift gears and cverything. So T let him go ahead and treat me like a dumb- bell. He got a great boot out of it!” Sally frowncd. “But what was the | idea of not telling him that you knew how to drive?” This time Millic groaned in mock | despair. “Sally, you just never will learn anything about men, will you?" she asked. ‘Don’t you know that they just adore an innocent lit- | tle simp of a girl who doesn’t know | | enough to drive a car or come in | | out of the rain? At least, the | me! | | sally. | Johnny Nve type of real he-man | does! 1t T'd told him that Davidson | taught me to drive, he'd have won- | i dered how well I knew Davidson ‘“Sea air's what she needs,” Millic said GIRLY ETC. and if he put his arms arounC me when he showed me how to steer around the corners, and s0 on.” “Did Davidson teach you to drive?” Sally asked, and Millle nod- ded vigorously. “I'll tell the waiting world that he did! He taught me to smoke, too, and he mixed me the first high-ball I ever raised to my lips,” she re- plled, and her volce grew more and more wistful as she went on talk- ing. “I had a circus with Davidson, always, but he's not the marrying kind. My Johnny's nice, and he has a lot of money and he'll make & perfect husband for me.” Sally tried to answer but failed. There was a lump in her throat that kept her painfully silent. “I sure do miss Davy Davidson, | though,” the light voice beside her ran on. “He knew how to show a girl a good time. ... Now, you take John Nye. He's much too polite for He thinks that no nice girl would step inside of a road-house! His own sister never was allowed to | go to them before she got married. I don’t know whether I can live up to such a family or not! I like pep, and plenty of i “It's ali settled, then, that yoi're { going to marry John Nye?" asked Sally, as they turned into their own | driveway and parked the brown car in the tiny backyard. “Oh, T don’t know. He hasn’t said anything about it yet,” Millie said. “But jiminy, it certainly looks as i he means business, doesn't f{t? Lending me his car, and giving me that gold vanity case and all those books and things. Oh, I'm sure he's serious, Sally. I can tell whether a man likes me or not.” In silence they climbed the stairs. “I think I'll give Davy a ring lo- morrow, and see what's become of him,” Millied mused aloud, watch- ing Sally unicck the door. “Johnny sald something about taking on a salesman in the office and I thought 1 might tell Davy to go up and see him about it when he gets home. Davy was a wonderful salesman for Bursall.” Sally shook ber head gravely. “Oh | T wouldn't do that!” she cried. But when Millle asked her why, she had no answer for her. She simply felt that it would not be fair to Miille to have one of her old sweethearts in the same office with herselt gnd John Nye. It wouldn't be—she fished for the right word—sporting! And if Millie didn’t really love John, why on carth did she want to marry him? Just for money? Mrs. Jerome was still awake. She was sitting ir_her room, sipping a tall glass of hot water and groan- ing with a pain in her side. “I ought to be in a hospital,” the declared, “where I'd have' someone to look after me. To think of Millie running off tonight and leaving me alone for hours! And I haven’t had a bite of suppe: Then, in the next breath, she ask- ed Sally to bring her a plate of bread and butter. “It may stop this tearful gnawing fn my stomach.” she sighed, and ate every crumb of it with great gusto. “T don't feel well, either,” Millie told her, sitting on the arm of her chair. ‘I've had a headache for three days. If I didn't have to hold rdawn a job, I'd stay in bed all day tomorrow.” For the first time Sally noticed that she really did not look well. Her cheeks were thin, and her eyes seemed enormous in her drawn face. “Isn’t it flerce—terrible—awtul to she asked, looking up at ¥ Here’s poor mother, all run down. What she needs is sea air, and if we had money I could put her on a tramn and take her to some ocean resort or mountain hotel where she’d be able to rest. ‘You two could go somewhere with that $200 check that Dad just sent,” Sally reminded them. *“You needn’t give Beau and Mabel a hundred dollars, Mother. Your health comes first.” “Yes, but ‘I've given them the whole thing already,” faltered Mrs. Jerome, weakly. “They begged me for it this afternoon when we were driving home with Millie's young man—-" “And did you really give it to them ?” shricked Millie, jumping up from the arm of her mother’s chair. “Did you give them the hundred that you'd solemnly promised to me for some new fall clothes? Why, if you did, you ought to be ashamed of voursel You ought to be ASHAMED.” Her voice rose higher and higher. Shaking with rage, she leaned over and grasping her moth- er's shoulders, glaring at her wildly. Then as Sally pulled her away, she uddenly crumpled up and slid out of her arms to the floor. She lay there, beating the floor weakly with her clenched fists, and sobbing in great hoarse gasps. Mra. Jerome looked at her, sol- emn as an owl. “She hasn’t had a tantrum like that since she was a tiny girl.” she remarked calmly. “When she was little I spanked her out of them.” (TO BE CONTINUED) Your Health How to Keep It— Causes of Iliness By DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN Editor Journal of the American Med- ical Association and of Hygeia, the Health Magazine One of the saddest spectacles in the afflictions of mankind is early blindness caused by improper care of the eyes in newborn infants. The National Committee for the Prevention of Blindness has been giving attention to this subject for many years, and reports that the amount of blindness for 1926 due to the infection of the eyes in child- birth was 12.9 per cent, a gradual reduction from 23 per cent in 1908 to 1912. The venereal diseases continue to be responsible, however, for most of the blindness from which human beings suffer, since other venereal conditions are responsible for loss of sight besides that which causes the common type of blindness of in- fancy. One of the most important steps in preventing defective vision has bLeen the establishment of pre- school eye clinics, particularly in New York. Children are brought to these kindergartens or clinics before they are ready to begin their educa- tion. 1In this manner thousands of cases of bad eyesight are detected, and the children provided with suit- able eye-glasses, or their infectious diseases of the eye cured before they undertake the studies which place a special burden upon the sight. It has been estimated that at least 5,000 sight-saving clinics will be nec- essary to accommodate all of the children of the country, whereas thus far there are approximately only 234 available. Recently Noguchi, the celebrated Japanese investigator of the Rocke- feller Institute, announced the dis- covery of a bacterfal organism which he believes is responsible for the disease of the eyes known as tra- choma. While this discovery has not as yet been confirmed by other investigators, the evidence presented ‘was 8o convincing that competent specialists in diseases of the eye are willing to accept it at its face value. If the organism can be confirmed as the actual cause of this disease, thousands of cases of blindness will be prevented through the application of this knowledge of the control of trachoma. Industries are beginning to give attention to eve hazards associated with various occupations. The wear- ing of suitable glasses by those working on machines from whicn fragments sometimes fly into the cyes has prevented thousands of cases of blindness. In this, as in many other forms of disease preven- tion, education of the public is the essential step. More and more peo- ple are beginning to realize that a moment’s thought concerning the prevention of disease may be the means of saving hours of illness and vast sums of money spent for relief or cure. Menas for the Family BY SISTER MARY Breakfast—Grape fruit, broiled fish, potato cakes, rye muffins, milk, coffee, Luncheon—Cold bolled tongue in aspic, potato salad, corn muffins, blackberries and cream, plain cook- fes, milk, tea. Dinner—Vegetable melon salad, coffee. In this dinner menu the protein- rich dish is found in the dessert. Often a poached egg 1s served on a bed of spinach or any creamed vege- table on toast but for this “plate” the addition of the egg is unncces- sary. When planning a vegetable dinner always choose vegetables of contrasting color and arrange them attractively. Cold Boiled Tongue in Aspic Two tablespoons granulated gela- tine, 1-2 cup cold water, 2 cups boil- ing water, 2 bouillon cubes, 2 table- spoons minced carrot, 1 tablespoon minced onion, 2 tablespoons minced celery, 1 tablespoon minced parsley, 1-2 teaspoon salt, few grains pepper, 1 cup diced cold boiled tongue, 1 head celery. Soften gelatine In cold water for five minutes and dissolve bouilton cubes in boiling water. Add carrot, onion, parsley, celery and salt to dis- solved bouillon cubes, cover ciosely and simmer 20 minutes. Remove from fire and stir in softened gela- tine. Strain through wire and then through cheesecloth. Place a spoon- ful of the aspic in the bottom of each individual mold. It will stiffen very quickly. On this put a slice of crisp celery. Cover with a thin lay- er of aspic and a layer of diced tongue. Continue layer for layer of and ment until all is Put on ice for several hours to chill and become firm. Unmold plate, water- caramel custard, milk, | on a bed of lettuce hearts and celery curls. To unmold wrap each cup in a towel wrung out of hot waters, In vert and the aspic will slip out easily This is an excellent way to use up the end of a tongue that is too small for slicing. (Copyright 19 A Service, Inc.) READ HERALD CLASSIFIED ADS ADS FOR YOUR WANTS For Safety’s Sake - demnane CARBUNA Cleaning"Fluid RENOVES*!BNE mmeves corm plasts Sithout peliing skin or hai, W00 A1 Siae Berer of o8 Dog Poarer’ Bite yourself an Any Pretzeleer Can Reach High C Yes, even the basso profundo Professo Pretzino we picture tosses off a per- fectly pitched C upon the slightest pro- vocation. You need no ear for music to recognize a good C when you see one. Pretzeleers don’t bite by ears, but by teeth. And they do their letters in O-So-Guds. Like this: i CC Musical or not, it’s a pleasure to pretzeleer. Even bass drummers do it when they get a chance at O-So-Guds. These pretzels are baked by Uneeda Bakers. Baked brown. Baked crisp. Baked brittle. And with a fine hearty saltiness that makes you want more and more. * Serve pretzels with soup, salad and dessert—with iced drinks, cheese and hors d’oeuvres. They’re good to eat with meals or without. Especially recommended for chil- dren because they are so easy to digest and good for teeth and gums, Ask your grocer how many people are taking home pretzels made by Uneeda Bakers. Thepreszelwith & past—and & At0. vs. PAT. 0P8 Plays it straight, and very good at it too. In handy pack- ages. NATIONAL BISCUIT COMPANY “Uneeda Bakers™ i